Begonias
by difficile
Summary: I am only human, she said, and it was then that Gabranth realized how different they both were. Gabranth/Drace, and a look at their interesting past and relationship.


**_A/n: written as a challenge from my friend Rhiu. I actually enjoyed this more than I thought I would._**

**_Please, tell me what you think in a review. I allow anonymous reviews, too._**

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**Begonias**

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lxxx – only human

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When she first joined the group of Judge Magisters in the Empire, Noah – no, _Gabranth_ – acted towards her as most did; he took her for granted, assumed that House Solidor merely did not want to come across as chauvinistic, and allowed a woman to join for fear of negative public opinion.

But he found himself in the wrong after not even two days living near her.

She grew on the young Lord Larsa, and the boy did the same with her. Gabranth watched them quietly with piqued interest every day as he passed the young Solidor's study. Inside he could hear the new Judge's voice speaking softly to him – she acted as a guardian, but her skills in battle were things Gabranth had yet to witness.

Gabranth could never really stop and listen as he passed Larsa's study every day, though he did wonder what they were speaking about; he knew that the woman was an assigned mentor as well as a Magister, which changed his first assumption of her once he found out – she was intelligent, she was different.

Being from Landis as a born and bred soldier, Gabranth had his own opinions of women that were formed by the absence of his mother and the scathing remarks of them from his bitter father: they were unneeded, unimportant, and inconsiderate.

But as Gabranth strolled through the Solidor gardens one morning he saw her, he fancied he'd try and speak with a fellow Magister in a vain hope to get to know someone new and test his own theories.

She was sitting alone by the lily pads and begonias when Gabranth learned her name – well, her alias. Knowing a Magister's true name was akin to having their full trust, and the first words exchange between them did not imply that trust would be exchanged anytime soon.

Gabranth neared the woman and slipped off his helmet as a sign of courtesy before sitting beside her on the stone bench. They sat in a mutual silence for far too long, listening to the Empire outside the ornate gardens. The wind blew by them, cool but weak, and a lone begonia petal landed atop the woman's hand.

Gabranth turned his head to the side and stared at the motionless appendage before choosing to speak.

"Begonias symbolize a fanciful nature," he commented softly, though his voice was still rough and covered with a fake Arcadian accent to hide his Landis descent.

It didn't take long for the woman beside him to register his words before she laughed; it was a scathing laugh, holding some sort of condescending element to it that made Gabranth's heart thud against his chest – he wasn't used to being belittled.

"How wrong you are, Judge Magister," she replied, her voice stern but light; she was confident in herself…something Gabranth wasn't used to seeing. His eyes traveled from her sharp profile to her hand again, where the glove curled itself around the petal, engulfing scarlet in black. "…For Begonias symbolize fear and darkness, skepticism and beware. Your sources are unreliable."

Gabranth averted his eyes and settled with staring at the lily pads floating upon the glassy water. "My apologies…I am Gabranth."

"You may call me Drace. And Gabranth, although your symbolism was far from correct, I do hold a fondness and relevancy to such flowers."

The man blinked once and looked up to find the woman's own eyes boring into him; he didn't know the expression on her face or the look in her eyes. Perhaps she was sizing him up, judging him, silently laughing at him, or just plain looking at him. Whatever it was, Gabranth could not place it, but he chose to continue nonetheless.

"You mean to imply that you are fearful?"

"I am only human."

And they fell into silence again.

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lxvi – reflection

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That same evening Gabranth retired to his room early, just as the sun was setting beyond the prodigious buildings of the Empire. He shed his armor and placed it by his bureau as he did every night before changing into something more casual – anything would be considered more casual when compared to the thick armor he had to wear for hours on end.

The short conversation he had with Drace that afternoon still echoed through his mind, the last words of it still ringing through his ears.

"_I am only human."_

There was something in those words, something in that tone – so matter-of-fact and simple that it left Gabranth mulling in a troubled silence. He ran a hand through his short blond hair before making his way to the window overlooking the skyline of Arcadia.

It had been too long since he's looked at things past their façade; his life dedicated to House Solidor and the Empire and all the little turns and twists in between had made him far from something he used to be – far from human. Those few words threw him into such a revelation that the Judge Magister had to pause by the windowpanes for a long moment, trying to see past the glass and to the sky.

But all he saw was his reflection staring back, the cold eyes of one who swore unquestionable loyalty to lies and deceit, the stone stare of a man who would take the hand of betrayal far before he took the hand of rational morals.

He belonged here. He was a Judge, and part of being one was casting aside certain aspects of humanity and replacing them with things that could get the job done.

It was then that he realized Drace was more than just different. She was human, and she was in the wrong place.

Why was it, then, that Gabranth grew fearful for her?

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xcvi – friendship

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It took a tedious amount of time for Gabranth to find himself on common ground with Drace, to finally make himself seem an equal to the woman.

They spent sporadic afternoons in the Solidor gardens, at that same pond, on the same bench, and each time their understanding of each other grew and changed until, eventually, they became… friends. Well, as close as two Judge Magisters could be. Their mutual protectiveness and caring for Lord Larsa drew them together on multiple occasions when escorting or mentoring the young Arcadian, and although these outings didn't provide a chance for conversation, the silence between them only increased the trust.

After about three months of this interaction and close proximity, as well as elongated conversations in their spare time, Gabranth learned Drace's real name, and in exchange he gave her his own.

It was an indirect pact of trust between two Magisters, two humans who willingly gave themselves to another power and cast aside who they really were. And as Gabranth reminisced about their interaction one night, he realized that this kind of human interaction – real human interaction, with trust and compassion – was something he really needed.

Perhaps he, too, didn't belong there.

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lxvi – dangerous territory

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"_I see the serpent coiled here before me!"_

Her voice was shaky and packed with unbridled anger and bitterness towards Vayne, yet her finger did not tremble as she pointed it at the face of the true murderer of the King. Gabranth watched from the side, behind his helmet, and was grateful that the metal façade over him could hide the concern wavering in his eyes. Drace was being a complete fool, and although Gabranth knew and sided with his friend, he also was well aware of the consequences of voicing one's rebellion could bring. Here she was, so openly and confidently accusing the new ruler of murder – and yet her eyes never faltered from the snake-like features of Vayne Solidor.

The Emperor lied motionless, dead and slumped over his throne, and Gabranth watched the sickening scene at the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to Drace.

She needed to stop. But no, instead she continued, and did the worst most foolish thing one could ever do in the face of a new Emperor who knew not of mercy.

"_Vayne Solidor!" _her voice echoed through the large room and she stepped forward; Gabranth would have done the same, but only to stop her from what followed._ "As Judge Magister and upholder of the law, I hereby place you under arrest!"_

Gabranth stood motionless as the scene unfolded in front of him, and suddenly he came to life and stirred as Bergan unsheathed his own sword at Drace's back. Everything else was a blur – Gabranth could only stand helpless as the man enclosed his hand around her skull and tossed her aside. His heart thudded against his chest, and his blood ran cold and quick through his veins. Yet she was ignored, lying still against the hardwood floor as Vayne continued to speak.

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xciv – reality

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"A hound, begging for scraps at the Emperor's table. Would you serve another master, hound?"

Gabranth resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust at the demeaning words thrown at him, and instantly realizes the chaos that would unfurl from the death of the Emperor and Vayne's total rule.

But soon that ebbed away and the Magister realized what was being implied.

"You may fulfill your duty as Judge Magister before us all."

Gabranth registered the words and turned to Drace, to his friend, to someone who was slowly starting to become more than just a discreet companion. She was motionless and crumpled, and Gabranth felt a piece of him crumple as well when he picked up her sword. He could feel Bergan's sick smile as Gabranth kneeled down beside her and positioned the blade at her side; it would easily cut through her armor and pierce her flesh, it would easily kill her and rid Gabranth of the only shred of human companionship, the only shred of sanity he had.

He paused, holding the blade and contemplating if he should really go through with it – not that it mattered; if he didn't, he'd die as well.

And he wasn't human enough to accept death, not just yet.

Drace looked tired, her spirit was worn out and weak. She had given up, and Gabranth's eyes narrowed, almost childish enough to ask, 'why me?'.

"Do it Gabranth. I care not."

The truth in her words made Gabranth shudder on the inside. He suddenly remembered those quiet afternoons shared with her, rarely filled with laughter yet it mattered not – he had someone to relate to, someone to talk to, someone… just… someone.

And now he had to throw it away with his own hands. As he looked in her half-lidded eyes he remembered Begonias, of all things, and their first words exchanged.

"_I am only human."_

She didn't belong there, Gabranth knew it from the start. Startling and painful it was, how fabricated and temporary the contentment he had with her. A shame it was.

"_Forgive me_," Gabranth whispered, and never had the man been so honest in all his life. There was something else he wanted to say, emotions that were crawling up his throat and begging to be released.

But he knew not of these emotions, let alone how to put them into words.

"_Pray be quick," _Drace's voice, muffled and strained, reached Gabranth's ears. His grip tightened around the handle and reality did the rest.

He watched her features tighten and her body tense, and felt the blade pierce too strongly against flesh, felt his own breath and heart stop just as Drace's did.

Gabranth thought it would be easy – he had killed many before; killed young soldiers_, _killed civilians, and watched his brother rot in Nalbina for a crime he didn't commit. All in all, Gabranth thought he was far from human, and that was what made him strong.

But what he did that evening in Arcadia was something that troubled him to the very core.

He did not know where Drace's body was put, and it made his blood boil at the idea of her being tossed away, perhaps in the Sandsea or even given to the Mastiffs.

He lied down in bed that night with a troubled aura about him. Drace's face refused to leave his mind, and he tried to focus on more pleasant things… but it was proving to be difficult.

She was dead. She was dead. She was dead.

He killed her – and there was still something he wanted to say.

Gabranth turned over on his bed and buried his face into the pillow in frustration. Somehow sleep found him that night, though his dreams were hectic and enigmatic.

The next morning, he woke earlier than usual. He dressed in his armor and slipped the helmet over his head, the helmet that he almost felt incomplete without.

The sunlight was soft against Arcadia that morning, and Gabranth took a walk through the Solidor gardens for a moment of tranquility before the day started, before he had to face his new Emperor and whatever deeds he had planned.

And as Gabranth passed the pond with the lily pads, he fancied he saw something different. The man slipped off his helmet and looked around before noticing something strange – the begonias… they were in full bloom. Gabranth went to sit on the cold stone bench and suddenly felt ill and strange – there was no one beside him. Ironic it was, how used to companionship Gabranth had become, that the mere absence of it made him feel so empty. With a heavy sigh he placed his helmet adjacent to him, where Drace used to sit.

His fake identity was his only companion now.

That, and the begonias swaying in the morning's gentle wind.


End file.
